


Reunions Aren't So Bittersweet

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 13 Inspired [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x13, Bottom Dean, Coda, Confessions, Cuddling, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean has feelings, Dreamwalking, Insecure Dean, M/M, Rimming, Showers, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, devil's bargain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Coda to 13x13Dean and Cas's conversation was cut short, so with all the players of this season busy with something, they have some time to talk through some things that have been building for a while. Because to win this coming war, they need to be on top of their game, and that can't happen when your mind is filled with doubts.





	Reunions Aren't So Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, so this episode! It was really great, but missed a few things... so I hope this adds to what was a fantastic episode.

            The smell had gotten to him – that was all. He wasn’t sure if it was the oils from the chicken or from Donatello, but suddenly he couldn’t breath without tasting artificial herbs and spices. It was suffocating – the _smell_ , not anything else. Definitely not the pair of eyes that followed his every move as he reassembled his gun for the umpteenth time – he’s used to that.

            He’s _used_ to that.

            So it had to be the chicken.

            “I think it’s time for some shut-eye,” Dean announces, scraping his chair back across the floor, drawing all eyes towards him.

            Sam frowns, “Really? It’s like… nine o’clock-“

            “And we had a long day, Sammy,” Dean grumbles, cocking his empty gun one last time before stuffing it into his waistband, “You most of all should know the importance of beauty sleep.”

            “Dean –“

            “Donatello,” Dean raps his knuckle against the table, “You gonna get some rest?” Donatello jumps, looking at him with wild eyes. He looks like a chipmunk the way his cheeks are puffed up with chicken bits.

            “No,” he mutters, “Too much work… not enough chicken…”

            Sam sighs, standing as well, “I could use some fresh air. I can get you some. Cas, wanna come?”

            Dean doesn’t wait to hear his answer. He grunts out a quick goodbye and hurries back towards his room. It’s not until he hears the soft click of his door that he feels his stomach untangle from itself.

            ‘ _Damn chicken._ ’

            Dean scrapes his hand across his mouth, sagging against the door. He pulls the gun from his jeans and tosses it on the bed, followed shortly by his shirts. Dean wasn’t lying about it being a long day, but sleep is the furthest thing from his mind. Sleep means vulnerability. People can hurt you – they can _leave_. One minute they’re next to you and you wake up and it was all a dream and _he’s_ –

            “Get it together,” he mumbles, toeing of his boots and socks. He grabs for a towel, and shucks the rest of his clothing on the way to his bathroom.

            He doesn’t need sleep. He needs… a _shower_ : a nice, long, hot shower with… with no one.

            Dean ignores the dark swirling vortex in his mind and instead spins the knob, letting the cold water beat against him. He hisses, the drops like knives slicing into his flushed skin.

            He takes his time, lathering the soap across his body slowly. Some areas require special attention, and Dean is surprised the room hasn’t fogged up by now. The shower has done practically nothing to calm him down, and every swipe below, every touch too close, he can feel fire pooling beneath.

            ‘ _Dean_ …’

            Dean’s eyes open, and he stares, slack-jawed at the shower wall. His one hand is scraping against the tile, while the other is covered in suds, circling but never diving in. He jerks away, running it under the stream.

            After that, he rushes through washing his hair, and practically jumps out of the shower.

            He wraps the towel around him and walks back into his room.

            “Dean.”

            “Jesus!” Dean startles, gripping at the doorjamb, twisting the towel tighter around his waist. Cas isn’t looking at him, not anymore. He’s staring down, tapping away at his knee with one hand.

            “Sorry,” Cas says, “I didn’t mean to… interrupt-“

            “You weren’t interrupting anything!” Dean squeaks out, blushing. Cas turns towards at him now, tilting his head to the side, squinting. It doesn’t help things in the slightest. Dean knows what those baby blues do to him, and the longer he locks eyes with Cas the _harder_ it gets to think. He tears himself away, keeping his back to Cas as he searches for something to wear.

            “So,” Dean starts, “how was the food run? Did Sam faint when he tried to order something with more than ten grams of trans fat in it?”

            “I wouldn’t know, I don’t think he’s back yet.”

            Dean pauses, glancing back at Cas. He’s looking at Dean’s desk, eyes trailing over the collection of papers, books, and empty cassette tapes.

            “Oh?” he says, sliding pajama shorts up under his towel, “You didn’t go?”

            He shrugs, “I didn’t feel like it.”

            “Really? For how long you’ve been locked away, I’d find any and every opportunity to stretch my legs.”

            Cas smirks, looking back at his lap, fingers twiddling in an oddly human gesture. “I seem to be… all stretched out, you might say,” Dean’s knees nearly give out on him, “I’d rather stay here.” He looks up at Dean now, eyes shining with something Dean doesn’t want to see.

            Something he doesn’t deserve.

            Dean clears his throat, shrugging into a faded t-shirt, “Until?”

            Cas’s face falls, “…Until what?”

            “You tell me.”

            Cas tilts his head again, and lets his gaze follow Dean as he pads across the room over to his desk. He picks up one of the tapes, and turns it over in his hand.

            “I forgot to ask,” Dean says, “What did you ever think of my tracks?”

            Cas smiles, “I liked them. I just wish…”

            “Yeah?”

            “I wish that I still had it with me,” Cas tells him, fiddling with his jacket now. Dean huffs a soft laugh, and reaches into his desk for something. He pulls out another cassette tape, and holds it out to Cas. Cas takes it and lets out a soft gasp. His fingers trace the letters, and Dean can see him mouthing the title to himself. He looks back up at Dean, his eyes wet.

            “You… kept it?”

            “I didn’t… I couldn’t keep your jacket this time,” Dean frowns, remembering how wrong the tattered and ashy jacket felt in his hands. He was about to let it burn, too, until he felt something inside the inner pocket.

            Right over the heart.

            “I made you a new one, too,” Dean continues, “Figured you could use it the next time you’re on the road.”

            Cas’s mouth falls back into a hard line, and he’s staring at the tapes for a long time. Dean watches him, feet frozen to the spot. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Cas to thank him and be excited to try it out in the morning, where he’ll no doubt carry on with whatever honorable quest he’s decided to take up next.

            At least he’ll have these parts of Dean. They’ve gotten Dean through some pretty tough and lonely times and… he’s sure they’ll do the same for Cas. Do it in a way Dean knows he wouldn’t be able to.

            “Thank you, Dean… for the gesture,” Cas stands, handing the tapes back to him, “But I feel they’ll be of more use in your hands.”

            Dean’s heart drops. He bites his cheek, and forces a smile. “Yeah?” he asks, squeezing the word out through clenched teeth, “Why’s that?”

            “If I remember correctly,” Cas says, “my position has no power in choosing what comes on the stereo.”

            “…What?”

            “The driver picks the music,” Cas laughs, “And the passenger… well, you know.”

            “Oh?” Dean asks, looking down at the tapes. He’s lost, adrift in the sea of conversation with sight of steady land to continue the conversation. Dean drifts towards his bed, sitting down, the tapes heavy in his hands. He feels Cas sits next to him, but can’t pull his eyes away from the tapes.

            They’re trying to tell him something – Cas is trying to tell him something, and Dean either can’t figure it out, or can’t believe it to be true. Because he doesn’t really mean…

            “You’re staying?”

            Cas looks at him strangely. “…Yes? I – I don’t know why this comes as a surprise –“

            “Because it is, Cas,” Dean cuts him off. He swallows harshly and carries on, “You… We’re back right where we are before. We have no lead on Jack or Mom… Lucifer and Anael are out there, Bonnie and Clyding it up who knows where… you don’t have to sit here waiting when I know you want to be doing… doing _something_. There are more important things out there for you than there are here, Cas.”

            He can’t look at him. He doesn’t trust himself to do something stupid if he locks eyes with Cas one more time. It’s already taking nearly all his willpower to choke back the rest of the words that rose to the surface. Words he knows will only drag Cas down further and further from where he should be.

            “Dean…” Cas says, “Do you… do you really believe that?”

            He barks out a watery laugh. “Yeah,” Dean nods, “Yeah, I… I know it must have hurt bein’ locked away an’ all – and me an’ Sam were no help, couldn’t even tell… you don’t need us. I’m sure you could be doing way better things with your time then just waiting for some fat, old, soulless geezer working on a crapshoot with two broken little boys who can’t seem to do _anything_.”

            “Dean,” Cas whispers, “Dean, I need you to look at me.”

            He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t –

            “Dean, please…”

            Cas is there, hands clasped firmly onto Dean’s wrist. He’s kneeling in front of him, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s skin.

            “You are wrong, Dean,” he says, eyes burning with blue fire, searing into Dean’s soul, “There’s nothing more important out there for me than what is right _here_. I may have gone out on my own, but every time I did, it wasn’t because I felt there was something for me to do, I felt that there was something I needed to _prove_. That no matter how many times I get knocked down, I could still be of use – I could still help. It hurt being out of commission, but only because it kept me from the people that I care about. It kept me from my family.”

            “Cas…”

            “I never leave because I want to get away, Dean,” Cas smiles softly, tightening his grip on Dean, “You say I don’t need you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s my family that gives me the strength to keep going, even if I am on a path that takes me away from them. They give me the strength to keep going, to fight to make it back to them. To make it back to _you_.”

            “I’ve lived a long time, Dean. I’ve been in battles that have lasted ages, seen and handled an array of fantastic weapons, had wings that spanned dimensions and am made of one of the most powerful forces in the universe. But none of that has filled me with the _strength_ I feel when my thoughts turn to you. You give me things no one else has.”

            Dean can’t breathe. His vision is shaky, and the tapes rattle in his hands. He chokes out a soft, “What?”

            “Love, Dean,” Cas says, “You give me your love.” He leans in. “And I give you mine… if you would accept it?”

            He does. He takes it all, drawing it from Cas’s lips and into his. He lets the tapes fall to the floor, his hands finding better use tugging at Cas’s hair, pulling him up. Cas responds in kind, his hands slipping up and under Dean’s shirt, scratching at his back.

            “Less clothing,” Cas growls, “ _now_.” Dean’s gut flips in excitement, shucking the shirt as Cas throws both his trench coat and suit jacket off of him, toeing off his boots. Dean smirks, grabbing Cas’s tie and pulling him back. The back of his knees hit the bed and they tumble down together. Dean unbuttons Cas’s shirt while the other man nips at his collarbone.

            “Don’t know how long,” Dean says, “How long I’ve been – I’ve been wanting to touch you.”

            “Don’t know how you survived,” Cas smirks, sinking his teeth deep into Dean’s neck. Dean groans, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Must have had some _hard_ nights,” Cas continues, moving down to work Dean’s nipples, rolling it between his teeth. Dean spasms while he pulls Cas’s shirt off him. “Thoughts swirling… how did you ever find relief?” His hand trails down, “Like this?” He squeezes, sending blood rushing from Dean’s brain to his dick.

            There’s enough sense left in Dean to sigh out a breathy, “No…”

            “Oh?” Cas looks up at him, pupils dark and wide, smile toothy and _hungry_ , “You mean,” he moves slightly, squeezing Dean’s cheeks, “Like this?”

            “…Closer…”

            Cas grin widens, and he tears the shorts off of Dean’s body. Dean flails, reaching towards his nightstand, “Lu-“

            “Not yet,” Cas tells him, “There is still so much _more_ I want to do to you… there’s not enough time.”

            “Then stop,” Dean breathes, skin flushed and sweaty, “Stop wasting it.”

            “As you wish.”

            Cas pulls Dean’s legs over his shoulders and shoves his face into Dean’s hole. Dean’s feet are crossed at the ankle, and he’s shivering from the feel of Cas’s breath, waiting for when he’ll –

            “Oh _God_!”

            His tongue was quick, flicking across his tight hole before pulling away. Dean grabs for his dick, thumbing some of the precum and using it to ease the slide of his hand.

            “No,” Cas pulls his hand away, smirking at Dean’s whine, “Not yet.” He returns, continuing his ministrations. Dean does nothing but writhe in pleasure, twisting his sheets in his hands and flexing his feet in time to Cas’s tongue.

            “What’re you doin’ down there?” Dean asks, “Spellin’ your name?”

            Cas pulls himself up and smirks. “No,” he says, “I was mouthing the words to ‘Ramble On’.”

            Dean drags him back up, kissing him fiercely on the mouth. “I didn’t know I could love you,” he sighs, peppering kisses across Cas’s face, “more than I already did, but you continue to prove me wrong.” He stops, staring at him. “I want you inside of me. _Now_.”

            Cas flips him over, Dean landing roughly with an ‘oof’.

            “Lube. Now.”

            Dean fumbles for a second, grabbing almost everything in his drawer before he latches onto the bottle. He tosses it behind him towards Cas.

            “Really?”

            “What?”

            Dean cranes his neck behind him, pouting at the face Cas is making at him. He’s holding up the bottle, index finger tapping at the happy cowboy on the package.

            “Shut up,” Dean mumbles, blushing, “It’s just… I got it in Tombstone. It was there and, I thought it was funny and –“

            “I think it’s cute,” Cas admits, “Did you get this when you got my hat?”

            Dean’s silence is answer enough.

            “Maybe next time we’ll do this in nothing _but_ the hats.” Dean gapes at him. “And the boots?”

            “You’re lucky I didn’t come from that image alone,” Dean moans, turning back around, “How do you want me?”

            “Hands and knees, Dean,” Cas says, sliding Dean’s pillow under his chest when he gets in position. Dean hears Cas squirting the lube onto his fingers. He drops the bottle somewhere beside Dean, and sidles up closer.

            It’s cold. The push in isn’t that rough, Cas’s tongue having done a good job of working him open enough. After a few seconds, Cas’s finger becomes fingers, and Dean clenches around the digits scissoring in and out of him.

            Cas dips in, three fingers deep, when he finally crooks his fingers to the right.

            Stars. That’s all Dean can see after Cas scratched at his prostate. “Again,” he mumbles, biting at his lip.

            Dean’s knees are starting to buckle from the pressure. His dick hangs heavy, leaking onto his sheets. He can’t touch it, his arms sure to collapse if he shifts even slightly to one side.

            After a few more time batting Dean’s prostate, the man’s had enough.

            “If you don’t get your cock in me, Cas, I swear I’m gonna explode.”

            Cas chuckles, pulling his fingers out, “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Dean hears him unzip, and he cranes his neck behind him, watching as Cas pulls out his own dick. It’s around Dean’s size, but thicker and curving slightly to the side. Cas’s head is a deep red, leaking just as much as Dean’s. Dean licks his lips at the sight.

            “Another time, Dean,” Cas tells him, “Get comfortable.” The lube is being squeezed again, and Dean can hear Cas slathering himself generously in it. Dean wiggles his ass a bit, hole clenching and unclenching with each passing second.

            When the tip of Cas’s dick hits, Dean clenches tight.

            “Shh, Dean, it’s alright,” Cas whispers, grip tight on Dean’s hips, “Relax for me… that’s it, good.”

            Dean takes a deep breath and lets go, readying himself for Cas.

            No amount of prep would have helped Dean for when Cas actually slides in. He pushes at the walls of Dean’s hole, and the curve sends his dick straight to Dean’s pleasure center.

            Dean moans, dipping his head as he rides out the wave that washes through him. Cas doesn’t move, fully sheathed within Dean, waiting for the next signal.

            “It’s alright,” Dean manages to say, “Keep… keep going.”

            Cas pulls out, and slams back in. Dean throws his head back, gasping at the shock. Before he can pull back, Cas grabs Dean’s hair and keeps him there, back arched.

            “Yeah, just like that,” Cas says, “Y’feel so good, Dean.” He pushes and pulls, going in and out, skin slapping against skin. “Don’t know why… why we waited this long.”

            “Me either,” Dean agrees, following Cas with a rhythm of his own, “Timing? Needed to get our heads out of our own asses before we could go near each others?”

            Cas laughs at that, pulling Dean up from his kneeling position to be flush against him.

            “Doesn’t matter,” Cas breathes against his neck, “Want you here… want to be here… I need you, Dean, need you beside me.”

            “I won’t leave if you won’t Cas,” Dean says, smiling as Cas kisses at his neck, picking up his pace. Dean moans start getting wilder, especially as the hand that isn’t keeping Dean upright finds its way to his dick. The sensations on both sides of him have his mind spinning, sending him closer and closer to the edge.

            “Cas,” Dean warns, “’Bout to… I’m ‘bout to…”

            “Do it, Dean,” Cas says, “I’m right there with you. I’m… I’m…”

            Dean feels Cas shoot his load right into his ass, and it forces Dean’s cum out of his dick. It comes in spurts, coating Cas’s hand and some falls on Dean’s pillow.

            They collapse on top of each other, breathing heavily. Cas pulls out and rolls over to the other side of him, watching him. Dean is dazed; mind turned to mush from the intense sensation of ecstasy that exploded inside of him. He wiggles his hips, trying to find a comfortable position that won’t have Cas’s cum leaking out of his ass.

            “Here let me,” Cas says, moving his fingers to Dean’s face. He stops him though, smiling.

            “No,” Dean says, “I don’t… I like the feel of _you_ inside me. Makes me feel… I don’t know,” he’s blushing, biting his lip, “feel whole.”

            Cas smiles, and pulls his hand away. “Would you like to rotate though? I don’t think you’ll like to sleep in this position.”

            Dean huffs a laugh, but agrees. He sits up and frowns down at his pillow, the smear of his cum already seeping in.

            “Let me,” Cas chuckles, cleaning the pillow with his grace. Dean kisses his cheek, taking the pillow and laying back down. He knows that something is already starting to leak out, but he could care less about that right now. What’s most important to him right now is sitting on the edge of his bed, tucking himself back into his pants.

            “Hey,” Dean whispers, reaching for Cas’s hand, “Stay?”

            Cas smiles, “I thought I told you I would.”

            “No… with me? Tonight?”

            “…I’d love to, Dean.”

            Cas lets himself fall onto the other side of the bed, moving the lube onto the other nightstand. Dean watches him, his heart beating at double the time. He’s pictured something like this thousands of times: having Cas next to him, taking the space he made for him in his bed and in his heart. It feels almost too good to be true.

            “Hey, Cas,” Dean asks, mouth already getting ahead of his mind to try and ruin this, “Are you sure you’ll be able to stay?”

            Cas turns to look at him, eyes softening in the dim light. “I hope so,” he answers, “Because whatever happens next… be it Lucifer, Michael, Asmodeus… or some new foe we have never met before… I want to face them all by your side. Because there’s nowhere I’m stronger than with you.”

            “Same, Cas,” Dean yawns, “They’re gonna have to tear you away from me…” It’s hard to stay awake any longer. His vision is fading, his eyelids flutter, and his last sight before he slips into unconsciousness is of Cas, staring at him in a way he’s going to get used to. 

* * *

 

            He feels happy. It’s a strange feeling, especially given their current situation, but for now, here in Dean’s room, at Dean’s side, he’s…

            He’s _happy_.

            And it’s all because of him. Cas is watching Dean sleep, running his fingers through his hair. There’s still a voice, a soft voice in the back of his mind that tells him he doesn’t deserve this, but he drowns it out with memories of the soft look Dean gave him seconds before he fell asleep.

            Dean’s eyes could make empires fall, wars stop, and the angriest of men find peace in their hearts. Because Dean’s eyes were filled with love and it was all directed towards him.

            Cas is lucky to have known Dean, because without him, he never would have known what it was like to feel true love: to have it, to share it, and to grow it.

            Dean snuffles in his sleep, pressing closer into Cas’s chest. He had moved from his pillow a while ago, and has curled himself around Cas, their legs tangled together, with Cas rubbing his foot up and down Dean’s leg every now and then.

            There is still so much they will face. Cas can’t fully relax, knowing that at any moment their bubble of peace would pop and they’d be thrust back into danger. He knows that Dean, even subconsciously, must feel the same. He’s muttering lowly, to himself, tightening his grip against Cas.

            Cas offers him a small smile, leaning in close and kissing his forehead.

            There’s not a lot Cas can do, and he’s come a long way to finally accept this simple truth. That what he can do is enough for him, and he should be proud of it.

            So what he does is gift Dean with sweet dreams. Dreams he remembers from his time as a human. When he was lost for all that time, it was these simple joys that kept him going. It wasn’t until it was too late that Cas realized _why_ it did so, but that doesn’t matter now. He’s here, Dean is here, and they’re where they need to be.

            It’s all they can ask for in lives such as there’s.

            He settles in, curling a hand around Dean’s bicep, and letting his eyes fall close.

            Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can relive the dream, and not the memory.

* * *

 

            _Dean wakes up in a field. The sun is shining high above, with no clouds in the sky. Dean investigates, looking around for a clue as to how he got here. There’s nothing but flowers, bright and purple and everywhere._

_Dean squeezes his toes in the dirt, trying and failing to explain just what’s going on._

_“Hello, Dean.”_

_He turns, Cas standing right behind him in a space he wasn’t before. Dean smiles, walking towards him and taking him in. He’s dressed in similar clothes as Dean: a t-shirt, jeans, and barefoot. He’s holding his hand out to him, and Dean accepts it without second-thought._

_“Cas,” he greets, kissing him, “Where are we?”_

_“Does it matter?” Cas asks in return, “I said I’d be by your side no matter what.”_

_Dean’s grin grows larger, brighter. “So,” he says, falling into step as Cas pulls him forward, “What now?”_

_“Now?” Cas asks, “We just… be.”_

_Dean can do that. He promises to do that, even when they wake up._

_Because he knows that when he wakes up, Cas will be there, waiting for him._

_Forever._

**Author's Note:**

> So? Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
